


3 Times Elain Gave Azriel Roses. . . And The 1 Time He Did.

by sumnawaz



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29924802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumnawaz/pseuds/sumnawaz
Summary: Three instances where Elain Archeron gave Azriel roses with specific color meanings, and the one time he did.
Relationships: Elain Archeron & Azriel, Elain Archeron/Azriel, elriel - Relationship
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36





	3 Times Elain Gave Azriel Roses. . . And The 1 Time He Did.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a 4 part fic, so keep that in mind! All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.

  * **Peach & Pink:**



The roses had bloomed. 

There were an abundance of them; red, yellow, white, pink. Their petals appeared soft under the glow of the midafternoon sun, too gentle looking to be touched, especially by his fingers. But Azriel’s attention wasn’t on the flowers—nor was it on the abundance of reports he’d brought with him, on his lap and in his hand and on the bench he sat on. No, his attention was on the female tending to the roses, to the garden whole, moving about without a care of her dusty pink gown getting dirtied or the thorns of such flowers cutting through the gloves she wore and biting into her skin.

This often happened to the Shadowsinger. He’d sit out in the garden while Elain worked, being her silent companion whom she, as it appeared, enjoyed the company of, which was a fact of his life Azriel held onto. His wings splayed out, warm under the sun, shadows nowhere to be seen the longer his gaze remained on Elain. Every time his gaze wandered, he’d catch the look of soft concentration, an ease in which she worked to maintain her beloved garden, working with a kind of care he admired. 

They didn’t talk much when he joined her. Occasionally, their quiet voices found company in one another, where Elain would ask him about his day and he’d inquire what her plans were for the garden that day. He’d listen to the way she talked animatedly, coming to life in ways he didn’t see often yet desperately wished to. Gods, Azriel didn’t even realize it, didn’t expect it, how badly he needed to catch sight of her smile, the light glimmering in her soft brown eyes. A mere glimpse got rid of the tension in his muscles, sent his shadows away. 

“You won’t get any work done if you aren’t focused.”

Azriel blinked, the only reaction he’d allow upon hearing Elain’s words. She wasn’t looking at him, rather her gaze on her flowers, a curtain of brown curls more or less hiding her profile from him. She never tied her hair when she worked. It always looked so unbelievably soft under the sun. 

Yes, they didn’t talk too much, but when they did, it was always worthwhile. 

“Why do you assume I’m not focused?” Azriel questioned, the smooth tone of his deep voice a dark drawl in the colorful garden. 

He could hear the smile in her voice. “I don’t have to be a Seer to  _ feel _ your gaze on me.”

His expression remained blank, and Azriel fruitlessly chalked up the heat spreading across his skin to the sun high above them. It wasn’t as though he was. . .  _ embarrassed _ at having been caught staring; more so that he wasn’t quite sure how to react to Elain’s noticing of it. He didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, as if he was breaching some kind of line between them. 

Yet he couldn’t help it. If she was in his vicinity, somehow his gaze was drawn towards her like, like she anchored him with her presence. The sensation had been growing over the last year, more and more prominent, even if he had tried to ignore it at first. But Elain Archeron was not to be easily ignored or overlooked. She never was. 

“I’m just admiring the roses,” he responded. Azriel gave a slight nod towards them, Elain still kneeling in front of the flowers. “They look lovely.” He swallowed the impulse to clear his throat, fighting the urge to shift uncomfortably where he sat. 

Elain lifted her head to look at him, her gaze meeting his, eyes squinted ever so slightly against the sun. Azriel fought the desire to shield her with his wings, not when he knew she enjoyed the sun beaming down on her. “How can you see them from so far?” she inquired, tilting her head. “They look lovelier up close.”

Azriel considered her for a moment, feeling some part of him freeze at her innocent offer without reason. Why, he wasn’t sure, a secret about himself kept from himself. This wasn’t the first time Elain invited him over to observe her flowers, taking up any opportunity to talk about them where it presented itself. The shadows whispered in his ears, excited and anticipating, and Azriel skittered them away as he put down the reports he held before standing.

His shadow reached her before he did, tall form towering over her, and he gazed down at her as Elain smiled that sweet smile that would make grown males beg.

He had a suspicion if he wasn’t careful, he’d be one of them. Had an inkling he may already be one of them.

Azriel lowered himself to his knees, his hazel eyes never leaving her brown as he went, inches of space between them that felt miles apart. He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to, in this moment, when she was peering at him with that damned smile. The shadows vanished, and it was just the two of them in the garden of the estate, the sun high, the wind gentle, and this profound desire to shift closer to her.

Her eyes were bright against the sunlight as she murmured, “You can’t admire the roses if you don’t look at them, Azriel.”

He reveled at the way her lips sounded his name.

His head spun at the mouth the middle Archeron sister seemed to have on her.

And his heart thundered at the way, when she uttered those words in but a whisper, her gaze had lowered, just slightly, disconnecting from his eyes to only land on his lips. He didn’t need to be a spymaster to pick up on it.

Dangerous. This was so dangerous. 

Azriel shifted his gaze, expression expertly blank, as he looked towards the brush roses. Only a few rose buds were scattered here and there, but most of them had fully bloomed, a bed of the brightest and beautiful flowers in the garden. Stunning petals circling the top, while thorns on stems threatened to prick fingers. Not that Azriel minded much; any thorn-received scratches would be masked by the pre-existing scars on his hands.

“Did you know every different colored rose has its own meaning?” Elain asked, her voice as gentle as always, a caress to his skin among the whisper of a breeze.

He knew that, yes, though he wasn’t quite in tune with what every color itself stood for. His gaze looked over the roses; different shades of pinks and reds, some yellow and some white, even some in orange and peach and lavender. And yet they didn’t look like a clash of colors clumped together. Elain grew them with an expert’s eye, groups of colors put together, while the overall image of the roses remained appealing to the eye. Beautiful. 

When Azriel remained silent, Elain leaned forward, her long unbound hair just brushing along the bare skin of his unarmored arm as she did so. The strands tickled his skin, a ridiculous sensation he enjoyed, had him wondering just how her hair would feel between his fingers.

He tightened his jaw. These thoughts, no matter how deep-rooted, were too risky to be having. 

Azriel watched as Elain’s fingers carefully wrapped around a peach colored rose, his eyebrows just barely flicking up when she plucked it out, before doing the same with a shockingly pink one. His tongue was heavy in his mouth as Elain offered the flowers to him, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to look at the proffered roses or the dusty pink now coating Elain’s cheeks. Or was he meant to focus on the way her heart was drumming in her chest?

The Shadowsinger was lost, and that rarely ever happened.

Elain’s lips curled into a small smile, her gaze lifting to meet his. “Peach, like yellow, means friendship,” she told him, still holding the flower between their kneeling figures. “But it, along with this shade of pink, also means appreciation and gratitude.” Elain tilted her head, just slightly, a kindness in her face that exemplified her beauty. “I enjoy these moments when you sit in the garden with me, without any expectations, like you did that very first day at the town house.” The pink on her cheeks deepened prettily, offering her flowers, smile shy and eyes glimmering. “It means more to me than you’ll know.”

Air was a luxury Azriel wasn’t quite sure he could acquire the moment he heard Elain’s words, staring at her in a kind of wonder he couldn’t keep off his face. This companionship, this friendship, they had built over time had become one he had cherished as well. And to have Elain herself tell him just how much it meant to her. . . Azriel didn’t know if he deserved this, but he would take it. He would take whatever Elain offered her.

So, he took the two roses, and wondered if there was such a way to keep them alive forever.


End file.
